


A Hundred Days Of War

by greenHarlequin



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Genocide, Mentions of possible rape, Psychological Torture, anti-mutant war, withdrawal from medications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenHarlequin/pseuds/greenHarlequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the UNO announces that mutants no longer fall under the declaration of human rights war begins. Charles Xavier has to watch as within a hunderd days nearly all his mutant brethren are imprisoned, tortured and slaughtered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hundred Days Of War

Charles’ eyes grew wide on the television screen in his room. It was the news. The United Nations had as it seemed basically just declared war on the entire mutant race. The glass of water that had been secure in his hand a second ago shattered on the floor, liquid drenching the carpet. Charles’ other hand was shaking violently but he clung on to that one pill. The medication that Hank had invented for him to restore the ripped apart neurons in his spine that were broken beyond repair by that bullet. Or at least they had though it wasn’t repairable until Hank invented the drugs that gave Charles his ability to walk back. If you could call it walking. The chemical bridges that reconnected his nerves for a while made all movements sloppy, clumsy. His motorics were so much worse from when he had been able to walk by his own free will. Now his legs only responded if he strained his body harshly and toxicated himself with chemicals that normally did not belong into any human (or mutant to keep it accurate) body.  
The TV now showed the General Secretary of the UN talking about how they really had a hard time to come to this conclusion. But apparently it was just too hard to differentiate the evil mutants and those who hadn’t control over their powers. So it was best to keep them all restrained. A thousand words crossed Charles’ raging thoughts at that speech but none of them was strong enough to express how much he despised that action. It was against the human rights. It was against the UN Charta. It was against all embodiment of common sense. It was just plainly racist.  
“And, with consultation of various scientists, including doctors of Genetics and Biology, we came to the conclusion that the community of mutants cannot be counted as part of the human race. Thereby both the human rights and the Charta of the United Nations do not apply to them.”  
Charles had to swallow against the hard knot in his throat. They just declared him non-human. Because some scientists said so he could be murdered, stolen from, prostituted. The list could go on. He wasn’t human anymore. A sudden memory of Erik Lehnsherr crossed his mind. Why had he have to be right the whole time?

They didn’t waste time. A week after the United Nations had declared mutants a threat to humanity, the deportations began. Famous mutants were dragged out of their houses, humiliated publicly, some of them crippled, others just simply imprisoned and drugged so their mutant-powers would be suppressed. Those who weren’t that famous were able to hide the first few days but after some time they were all eventually found out and dragged to that deserted island on which they had started to build a prison. On the 11th day after the declaration of war, the first mutants started to fight back. Charles, who had been able to stay undercover for a while looked in shock as he had to witness the public execution of Angel. They ripped her wings out, let her bleed and cry for a while before they dragged her to her feet and decapitated her in front of both the crowd and at least 6 TV-cameras. It was horrible. But even worse was the crowd who had been watching silently. In their eyes had been a glitter of pure hatred, crooked smiles on some of the faces. Charles quickly ran off, trying to force back the urge to vomit violently.  
After that, world turned into a battle field. Those mutants who had strong enough powers to stand up and fight went on killing sprees mostly ending in getting caught or killed in combat. That of course enforced the opinion of the UN that mutants were dangerous and should be restricted at all costs. No one protested against it. Not even one.  
There had been multiple underground organizations of mutants that were founded by those who didn’t lose their last ray of hope until now and still thought they could make it. Live as the non-humans they were. Or by those who tried to take advantage of the situation. Bloodshed always resulted in some militant people to gain power. Massacres became more and more frequent. Charles heard the story of a mutant boy with laser beam-powers to have been running into a school in midday and making the entire building collapse, killing hundreds of children and all teachers in the facility alongside himself. Charles mourned Alex’s death, he felt irresponsible and weak. He had thought the boy had managed his criminal tendencies. He thought he had been able to never go back to using his powers for destruction. But so many of his thoughts had been proven wrong in the past few days, that he wasn’t even surprised by it anymore. The media had adapted Havok as Alex’ name. Such irony that it now served as the name of “That evil mutant who blew up an entire school building on purpose” instead of “That brilliant boy that helped stop the third world war”.  
And then, on day 17, they managed to find him. He had just taken his pills as the special anti-telepath-unit, which had been put together by the UN in the blink of an eye, stormed his house and dragged him out without saying one word. Their helmets were enforced by the same material that kept him out of Erik’s thoughts and so he was forced to let himself be dragged along, get drugged and thrown into a small transporter. It was damp and small and there were at least 4 other people in there with Charles. The smell of human excrements and fear nearly suffocated him but he told himself to keep on breathing. Everything was going to be alright. They couldn’t possibly be inhuman enough to not give them an ordinary jail’s comfort, right?  
Wrong. The second they arrived at the haven they were thrown out of the car again, pushed and hit and then put into an even more crowded ship that looked like it was about to sink anyway. They were put into the tiniest cargo place below deck they could find. It was hard to move without kicking or hitting anyone. Talking seemed like a waste of breath so they didn’t. Time had slowed down. Neither moving, nor speaking made the two hour ship-trip to the island seem like an eternity. An endless hell, drenched in the smell of blood, sweat and suffocating fear. The only sound came from the stuttering motor of their ship and the small sobs of a blonde girl, not any older then perhaps eight years that had been repeating the same word over and over again until her lips had gone dry and chapped and her voice was so hoarse it went mute. Her mouth still formed the word “Mommy” in between the sobs but no one seemed to care enough to try and comfort her. Or they tried and it didn’t work. Later on Charles got to know the story of the girl. Apparently her mother had been killed right in front of her, because she had been trying to protect her daughter. Although the woman had never showed any sign of mutations she was shot down without hesitation. Because apparently only mutants stood up for mutants.

When they arrived at the island, the first thing that happened, was that they were stripped, everything of value was ripped off them, as if it was going to get sticky and stay there or as if it was going to disappear if they weren’t taking it fast enough. The only clothes they were given was an ugly pair of cotton pants, already drenched with sweat and some other liquids Charles didn’t even want to know about. The whole place looked nothing but put together as fast as they had been able to. Charles heard stories from those who had been in there longer than him that the earliest prisoners had to help built the facility when they arrived.  
After they had been given their pants they were all shoved into a shower room. For a second Charles feared that gas might come out instead of water, but nothing like that happened. The water was ice-cold. It sent shivers down his whole body, but at least he was allowed to shower at all. Some of the prisoners drank the cold water coming from the shabby showers as if they wouldn’t get any for a long time period, but Charles was too much in pain to give further thoughts about it. His medication was slowly beginning to wear off and he had no pills with him. Just before his legs were about to give in, someone securely wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting his shivering body.  
“Thank you-” Charles began to say but stopped in the middle of the word as he turned around to look at his helper. He immediately remembered the face and a weak smile grew to his features. The smile felt a little wrong there though. As if his face, now that it showed some positive sort of emotion didn’t belong to his aching body anymore. But Erik was there and he had to show him that he forgave him somehow. And that he was apologizing for fighting with him over his opinion when it was so accurate it hurt.  
“Hello, Charles.”  
Erik’s smile looked weird. As if he was completely indifferent to the situation and wasn’t going to change that fact.  
“I-I’m sorry for… you know saying you were wrong. You were right.”  
“I know. And I’m sorry for that.”  
They fell to silence again. Charles’ legs were being better again for a while so he wound out of Erik’s arms. He felt like he had to stand without support if he wanted to survive this whole situation. The pain of the decomposing neuronal connections nearly sent him to the ground but he just bit his teeth together and stood as stiff as he could. He needed those pills fast or he was going to collapse. And that was clearly not going to do him well in this environment.  
The sleeping quarters were all small rooms of merely 9 meters square, crammed with two bunk beds.  
Erik was in Charles’ room, as well as Sean and Hank. Sean was still in disbelief over Alex’s death and trying to collect the shattered pieces of the young boy’s sanity was very hard. For most of the day he just sat in a corner of the room, being catatonic, not reacting to anything. Only when jailers arrived, he would shiver in fear, eyes growing wide and he would try to press into his small corner even more, trying to be as small as possible. Erik was the only one remotely able to get the boy to act even partly sane.  
Hank tried to argue with the armed humans that kept them imprisoned whenever they came by, trying to talk them into giving him the chemicals he needed for his work. He immediately noticed Charles’ state and tried his best to get him new medications but the humans weren’t willing to help at all. Erik was concerned but as Sean occupied his full attention he wasn’t able to figure out why. Even Erik wasn’t able to look after two wrecks at the same time as much as he wanted to help Charles too.  
Sleeping was strictly scheduled. They got passed a bowl of food that looked like half molded leftovers and crap, but it was all they would get and Erik reminded them that they couldn’t be picky. Erik, Charles remembered, went through all of this a second time. He wondered if this was as cruel as the metalbender’s childhood had been, but Erik wouldn’t talk about the subject.

On day 19 of the war (if you counted from the UN-declaration) Charles was first removed from his cell as Erik kept reminding him and brought to a small, tidy room with no more furniture but a black, wooden chair in the middle. Charles was disturbed by the chair, unsure if he was supposed to sit on it or not, but his legs hurt so he stiffly sat down, on the edge, ready to jump up if anything should move. Nothing happened for hours and Charles felt the power-suppressing drugs wearing off. He carefully stretched out his mind, trying to find a reason for his staying in this room. He could feel nothing. He blamed it on the rests of the drugs. There had to be someone there. His range was still very small but slowly started restoring again.  
Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. It was as if everything around him had muted down, it was silent, heck his telepathic powers had to be blocked out somehow, it just wasn’t possible that everything sounded so… so… dead. He could sense some faint consciousnesses, but he was too weak to reach out to them. But most of the facility seemed to be brain-dead or something. No thoughts at all anywhere, it was silent to an extent that Charles thought that maybe there was no one really alive in here. That he was all alone. No one would ever come to help him. Especially not the humans.  
There! It was just for a second, but he was able to catch a glimpse of a thought very nearby. It radiated some sort of pity, but it was gone again before Charles was really able to locate the person that thought had belonged to.  
More hours of waiting. Finally a jailer came in, injected a light blue liquid into his arm and dragged him to his feet.  
Charles’ movements had become even clumsier then they had been when he was on his medications. The neurons were decomposing way too fast and Charles knew that he could only last two more days at the most like this. He stumbled back into his cell, tripped and fell right into Erik’s arms. He wasn’t sure what happened then, but he probably fainted from the waves of hot pain spreading from his hips throughout his whole body. He was pretty certain that he cried. It was hard to suppress the tears when everything in your body hurt and you had thought you would die alone in a room a few minutes ago. He was just glad that Erik wasn’t irritated but held him securely.

Most of the days went by just the same. Three times a week Charles was locked up in the empty room for several hours and it nearly made him lose his grip on reality completely. Erik tried to help him, but from day 23 onwards, Sean had stopped eating and drinking at all. He refused taking anything that a human had touched and seemed to be determined enough to starve to death. Erik had to focus all of his attention on the boy. For a few days now, Charles had been completely unable to move his legs, but the jailers still dragged him through the endless hallways to that room to torture him. The pain didn’t stop although it should have had a long time ago when the connections had broken off. Hank had the theory that the continued exposal to toxic chemicals had forced the neuronal ends to start to decompose completely and if he didn’t start taking his medication again it would only get worse. Charles really didn’t mind anymore. His legs could fall off for all he did mind.  
All he ever had wanted was to build that school for mutant children to make them learn to get control over their powers. All he got from it was being imprisoned, treated below anything human and fed crap. He was being drugged and dragged along the floor because he couldn’t walk. And they wouldn’t even give him painkillers even though Hank had already surrendered into begging the humans for any sort of medication.

Slowly they could watch Sean grow thinner and thinner and his eyes became even more panic-widened whenever a human got near him. He had lasted for exactly thirteen days , whispering to Erik that he waited for the drugs to wear off.  
On day 36, 13 days after he stopped eating, Sean suddenly got up during the shift change of the humans, opened the door and ran out. They could only hear the screams that brought him his mutant name, Banshee, and could figure what he was doing. This was his way of putting up to his loss. He went and avenged Alex by going on a killing spree without even thinking about surviving and coming back for a second.  
A few hours later they were told what happened by some mutant that had escaped his cell for a few minutes. Apparently Sean had just run through the whole building, screaming violently at every human that happened to pass his way. He took a little more than 30 jailers with him before he was shot in the neck by a human that managed to survive the massacre. Hank and Erik were in shock but Charles had grown indifferent. A fact that horrified him more than anything else. He didn’t care about anything anymore. It was just nothing there that could ensure hope on him. He was about to die. Soon. Humanity had lashed out on the mutants when they still had the ability to take them down by numbers. There were probably not many mutants left. There was no hope of them possibly surviving.

Now, that Sean was gone both Erik and Hank focused their efforts on Charles, but the more they tried to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be all right the more he lost hope. They heard screams and yelling more often now, as well as mad laughter and all sorts of sounds that indicated, that slowly all the mutants in the facility began going insane. It was just wrong but some of the jailers even seemed to enjoy picking on the lunatics that had become of some of the most honorable people that Charles had ever heard of. But it happened and Charles knew that he probably was going down the same road as them.  
“Charles. Charles you have to listen to me. We will get out of here somehow. We will. I swear. Come on, Charles!”  
Erik tried everything he could think of, but now he really considered his last resort. If Charles wouldn’t respond, well, then they would try to break out. If Hank hadn’t kept an eye on both of their eating habits he would have probably just stopped like Sean. But Hank wouldn’t let that happen. 

It was around the 50th day that Charles first had nightmares. He would wake up shivering violently and quietly sobbing. Sometimes even tears ran down his cheeks, but he never woke up his cellmates. He made sure that all his sobs were muted out by the pillow he pressed to his face, whenever he woke up from a bad dream. It worked pretty well, until he once passed out during the daytime. Erik was there, Hank had been led to who knows where they tortured him and so Erik noticed how fierce Charles muscle spasms where, whenever he slept. His hands shaking was normal, the neurons were still decomposing at a much too fast pace, but Erik noticed that whenever Charles was dreaming, his whole body would tremble, as if he was vibrating. When the first sobs tumbled out of Charles’ throat, Erik woke the telepath up.  
Charles looked disoriented as his glassy eyes tried to focus on anything. Finally his gaze found Erik’s face and he frowned. “Hey, what happened, a minute ago you were stabbed multiple times by some metal spears. Erik, could you please explain to me, why you are alive?” Erik knew that this was bad. Charles began mixing up his dreams and reality. He had to try and explain to him.  
“No, Charles, I wasn’t… stabbed. That was a dream. A nightmare I suppose.”  
“Oh” was the only thing Charles answered to that before the tears suddenly started coming. The salty water would just silently wet his face and Erik didn’t know what to do, except hugging Charles as tight as he could.  
“Shh…” he muttered, trying to reassure his friend, that everything was alright and that no one was hurt.  
“Why would they do that to us?” cried the smaller one of them, clinging to Erik’s half naked body as if it was the last surely real thing he could relate to.  
“They are just confused. They will probably notice how wrong they were in a few days.”  
“No!” Charles sobbed, his voice breaking away slightly, “No! They won’t ever think they were wrong. They never truly believe that. Perhaps in a few decades they will frown upon it but deep inside they will always think ‘Good thing they did it already and not us!’ Erik, they will never accept us the way we are!”  
Erik slightly rubbed Charles’ back but said nothing. He knew, Charles was right and Charles knew that he knew. The other one would probably never forgive him if he tried to lie to him now so Erik stayed silent until Charles’ sobs slowly stopped. It was around that time, that the cell door would crash open and a blue figure would run into the room, quickly closing the door before turning around.  
“Help me!”  
Raven really looked awful, Charles decided, as soon as he felt composed enough to back away from Erik to look at his little sister. Her hair was uncombed, filthy and looked like it would become alive in a second. Her clothes, a really small, short cotton dress, were ripped apart and seemed to only be held together by the sheer willpower of their owner. But most importantly: She had bruises all over her face and legs and they seemed in different states of healing. As if she was hit multiple times a day on a frequent basis.  
“Charles, please, you have to help me!” she cried, throwing herself on her brother’s bed, completely ignoring the fact that he and Erik were hugging right now.  
“What happened, Raven, what did they do to you?” Erik asked and Charles slightly patted her head, trying to comfort her.  
“They… they are awful. They keep the female mutants away from the males and then they force us to take some weird sort of hormones or whatever so we can’t make children anymore and then they touch us and they hit us and…” her voice broke away and she looked at the men with pleading eyes.  
“You have to hide me. You have to keep them away from me. Please! PLEASE!” she cried out, forcing herself behind the males as if she tried to hide there.  
“Raven, it will all be okay, you can stay here, if you want to” Charles tried to reassure her but she only started crying again and drenched Charles’s back with tears as she hid her face there.  
It was then, when it knocked on the door and Raven suddenly turned extremely quiet. She stiffened and wouldn’t move anymore, as if she had turned into a stone figure, and clinged even more to Charles’ back.  
Charles didn’t even frown, he forced the empty expression he had worn for the past weeks on his face again as the door opened, and Erik jumped to his own bed again. The jailers that came in didn’t even give one look to the metalbender, but immediately approached Charles and threw him out of bed forcefully, revealing the shivering Raven behind him.  
“Look, what we’ve found. Such a filthy little whore, how dare you run away from us, eh?” one of the jailers, a tall, blonde guy with a German accent said, cupping Raven’s face with rough hands, before slapping her with as much force as he could. The blue girl whined but forced back the tears. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t…  
“Ohhh, did we hurt you, whore? Well, look, she seems like she enjoys it! Maybe we can hurt her some more!” laughed the other jailer and kicked Raven in the face. As she fell out of the bed, her eyes found her brother and she pleaded without talking, but Charles couldn’t move. He was lying on the floor and couldn’t even get up without help, much less protect his sister from the violent jailers. Erik was powerless as drugged as he was so he couldn’t do anything but clutch his hands into fists and try to keep away from the armed men. Charles needed him and as much as he wanted to help Raven, he just couldn’t risk being killed because of her. Charles would be completely helpless, like a toddler, without him.  
The guy with the accent bent down to look at the shivering girl under him, trying to reach for her face. But it seemed as this really was too much for Raven, she hissed and tried to bite the hand that was moved towards her. It resulted in nothing more but three kicks to her chest that made a sort of snapping sound. Charles’ stomach rebelled as he realized that the jailer just broke at least one of Raven’s ribs. The girl’s breath grew more pained and she whined and shivered even more than before. The second jailer pulled her hair and thereby effectively dragged her to her feet again. The blonde jailer spit right in her face before laughing and signaling the other one to get her out again. Charles watched in shock as Raven’s eyes went from terror to simple anger and then to rage. Charles knew his sister good enough to know that this expression could only mean one thing: Raven wasn’t planning on surviving anymore. She would now just do as much damage to the enemy as she could, while ignoring her own safety.  
The door was closed but they could still hear Raven’s sudden hiss, then some cursing and noises that were made while fighting. Then he heard a shot. Charles looked in horror, as a small flow of blood leaked through the small gap under the door.  
Raven was dead. Shot by some perverted jailers that had probably tried to rape her. Erik could see the last bit of hope flicker and vanish in Charles’ eyes. He looked like an empty shell to him, without that ever so present light in his gaze that made him a little bit naïve but so very cute. Now he only looked like a broken man, unable to walk, unable to protect his family, unable to prevent his world from breaking apart. Erik could do nothing but walk over and securely lift him up from the floor, positioning the telepath on his bed again. Charles wouldn’t protest, he wouldn’t even react at all. Erik could only think that this reminded him painfully of Sean’s condition after Alex’s death had been confirmed.  
Hank didn’t come back. It was rumored that he had been in a questioning and instead of giving out the location of some mutant guerilla cells he bit his own tongue off and was killed for it. Erik wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just been transferred to another cell so Charles would feel even more helpless and alone or if the rumors were true. Charles didn’t even seem to notice the fact that Hank wouldn’t come back. All that seemed to matter to the telepath was staying awake and refusing food and water brought by the jailers. Erik still forced him to eat something so he wouldn’t starve to death but, to be honest, Erik would have liked to stop eating altogether as well. It was just that Charles already was weak. That he wasn’t sleeping anymore pulled on his strength and made him look even hollower than before.  
When day 83 would roll around, Charles would already be nothing more than skin and bones with dark shadows under the eyes and absent minded most of the time. He would react to direct questions but that was all. Also he seemed to slowly forget things. One day he would wake up, asking for Raven and if she already made breakfast. Erik couldn’t get himself to tell him the truth so he just smiled and said that Raven was probably sleeping. Charles had shrugged it off.  
Erik knew that he had a strong dose of drugs in him. It was day 83 when he stopped his eating and instead would leave his food untouched. The jailers seemingly didn’t mind. Okay, perhaps they didn’t know that the suppressing drugs were in the food they brought the prisoners. Or they knew but thought that probably they would starve to death until the very last bit of drugs wore off. It took Erik’s body 16 days to fight the drugs off, but on day 99 he would finally feel his powers returning. It was then, when he cupped Charles’ face with his hands and started to whisper his plan.  
Charles’ drugs always only lasted for a few days so he could be tortured with the fact that his powers had been returning to him but were blocked out so he would feel all alone no matter how hard he tried to find someone alive. Now Erik had stopped giving Charles his food already three days ago, making sure that the telepath would have still enough power to escape.  
“Charles, today we are going home!” Erik started, watching with a somewhat grim joy as Charles’ eyes flickered shortly. At least he seemed to understand him, Erik thought.  
“I will bend the doors open so we can run and escape. You have to piggy-back me, is that possible for you?” Charles nodded.  
“Good. Let’s go, professor!” Erik exclaimed, getting ready for waiting for the perfect moment to commence with his plan.  
Half an hour before the shift change from nightshift to dayshift, Erik would start bending the door. A memory of the happy Charles he had known before Charles had lost his ability to walk flickered through his mind, giving his powers a slight boost. Yes, a happy memory he wanted to protect was all he needed to use his powers.  
The door was open and Erik quickly grabbed Charles and helped him onto his back, then began running. Charles gave his best, finding someone who knew a plan of the building and eventually found one. He used the memorized map of the man to navigate Erik through the building, giving directions. He even helped demobilizing some of the jailers that tried to stop them. Erik opened as many cell doors as he could on the way, starting a riot that would have made a Hollywood prison escape look pale in comparison. All he could think of was getting Charles to safety fast enough.  
They were nearly out the door, when Charles heard a shot very much near them, but as Erik commenced running he didn’t think of anything bad.  
Charles hadn’t seen the sun for nearly a hundred days now and he enjoyed the slight bit of light that forced its way through the grey clouds that were heavy with rain. He could nearly feel the aerial tension that preceded a heavy rainstorm.  
Charles couldn’t remember what happened after that or how they finally escaped the island. All he knew was that a few hours afterwards they would end up at Hank’s old laboratory, where Erik found Charles’ medication and gave it to him.  
After he finally took the pills he had longed for for so long, Charles could finally think a bit more clearly. As the pain seized away he finally noticed the blood on Erik’s back. He noticed how pale he was and that he was right now getting the bullet out of his own body, face cringed with pain.  
“Oh, no!” Charles cried out, running to his friend and supporting him as Erik was stumbling and nearly fell down.  
“It’s alright. I got you out. Just. This one bullet I didn’t see coming.”  
Tears were running down his cheeks as Charles had to helplessly watch his friend die. The blood loss had already been too heavy, Charles could do nothing but seize the pain in Erik’s mind a little bit by taking it on himself.

On Day 100 the UN finally decided to sign a contract of peace that made sure that mutants had the same rights as all humans. Charles Xavier was the one who signed the contract for the mutant party. He showed up in a black turtleneck pullover and in a wheelchair, on his face the expression of a man that lost everything. All of his original students were dead. Probably. He never heard about Hank again. All mutants had been freed from their prisons on the day that Charles and Erik had broken out. The UN had been forced by Charles into this agreement as he told them that if they wouldn’t give them the rights they deserved, mutants would go and fight for their rights. And there would be no weaponry known to mankind that would be able to stop all mutants of the world fighting together.  
Charles would be interviewed a lot by human journalists; he would be asked how it had been in the prison. He would tell them every detail he could remember and then excuse himself.  
He refused to go see a therapist. Because the only ones he could find were humans and Charles couldn’t force himself to ever trusting any human again.  
He heard that Moira had been killed by a guy named Logan that had led one of the guerilla armies. Witnesses said that she asked Logan why he would kill so many people without even batting a lash. Most of the witnesses agreed on the story that he grinned at her and said “Because that’s what mutants do!” and stabbed her with the claws coming from his hands.  
As far as Charles was concerned, that Logan had done something not very wise, but he didn’t really mind Moira’s death as much as he mourned his mutant friends. He never really came over the fact that Erik had died for him. Charles made it a habit to visit Erik’s grave at least once a week, talking to the tombstone as if his friend was about to jump out from behind it and laugh about his ridiculousness. But Erik never jumped out from behind anything.  
Charles commenced building up his school, but it was never the same again. He would advise his students to never fully trust any human anymore. He would never regain that glistering light of naïve hope anymore.


End file.
